A Game of Domination
by Tryglaw
Summary: The Game of Thrones has many players, each seeking to dominate the others. A new player enters the field...


Riiight, in order to get my mind off some crap that recently took place around me, I've decided to get my writing ass in gear and go ahead with a concept that has been bouncing around within my skull for quite some time.

First and foremost, I would like to give special thanks to Starfox5 who had been kind enough to beta for me.

So, let's get this show on the road, shall we?

 **A Game of Domination.**

 **Prologue.**

Usually, a story starts with a birth. You have to have your hero come from _somewhere_ after all.

This one started with a death – mine that is. Of all the ways I thought I could expire, be it old age, cancer, car crash, suicide (yes, there were times when I thought of _that_ , well, who _didn't_...) or, heck, a negligent discharge at the shooting range, slipping on the floor while stepping out of the shower only to smash the back of my skull against the... _porcelain throne_ seemed... pedestrian. Uninspired even. A _shitty_ way to go if you pardon the pun.

Being a staunch atheist I fully expected _nothing_ as my body shut down around me, so imagine my surprise when I found myself staring in the amused face of... John de Lancie? He wore the uniform of TNG Starfleet, with the pips of an admiral no less, and lounged in what seemed a comfy chair.

„Ummm, while I guess that stating the obvious would be superfluous, but still, holy crap! This _really_ isn't what I expected..." I said, looking around the surroundings that seemed to resemble Ent-D Ten Forward, if rather empty but for the two of us "still, I am extremely surprised that one of your, ummm, _magnitude,_ would spare any thought to such as myself..."

Q seemed a bit amused as he snorted with a non-committal shrug „Seeing as I have literally an _infinity_ worth _of infinities_ at my hands to spend, _why not_?"

Which was a reason as good as any truth to be told, and given the, well, _nigh-absolute_ disparity in power (he had pretty much all of it, I myself literally none of it) and, frankly, everything else at the moment, there was no reasonably intelligent (at least by my standards) comeback I could offer.

„Honestly" Q continued „I find myself a little bored these days, and you humans make for _some_ amusement. Certainly, your lot is hardly the most creative around, but sometimes even hairless apes can strike the proverbial gold."

I blinked, wondering where this would go, after all it's not as if I could actually do anything about the whole thing, other than potentially make it worse for myself by annoying him.

„But I must say, ever since your fellows over at that amusing internet forum came up with" Q made exclamation marks with his fingers „the „Self-Insert" stories as a fairly peculiar form of wish-fulfillment, I have found it particularly entertaining to actually place their real selves into the story settings they like to write about."

 _WHAT?!_

„Well, temporal quantum copies of them actually. One sits at home typing away, while the other finds himself snatched away between heartbeats, literally living through the thick of it. Both blissfully unaware of the very _existence_ of one another that is. Well, at least some of them do _live_ through, the differences between the stories written and actual turnout are _positively hilarious_ to behold. Maybe I should confront them with themselves some day, or maybe switch them around. Choices, choices..." He struck a thoughtful pose.

A feeling of dread began to form within my guts...

„Aaaah, yes..." He gave me a satisfied grin. „You catch on quickly. Since you've got literally nothing better to do at them moment, I guess I'll just send you on your merry way..."

As I started to open my mouth he interrupted: „and no, you don't get a say in the issue."

„Crap..." I sighed, resigning myself to the inevitable. „Where will I be going then?"

„That one you'll _almost_ get to decide..." Q said, while snapping his fingers. In a flash of light, two large urns appeared in front of me, along with a coin in his hand, the purpose of which he explained to me: „Heads and it's a cross-over type story, tails and it's a „straight" one. In case of the former, you will pick the „universes" in question from both urns, if it's the latter, you get to choose just one urn to pick from.

„What's the point?" I asked, „since you're literally a time traveller, and within the framework of my limited _comprehension_ of the concepts in question, both omnipotent _and_ omniscient to boot, so you already know the future outcomes. Of the toss, the potential draw, and how will my „story" unfold."

Q laughed: „But of course I do. That is, I _could_ if I _wanted to._ But where would be the fun in that, eh? So I restrict myself from knowing, otherwise I could just run the whole thing as simulation in my mind as a spare thought process."

Before I could add that doing so might have been for the best he added: „No, it doesn't carry the same entertainment value". He then tossed the coin to me: „Here you go then, toss and we'll see."

I briefly examined the golden Krugerrand: „The sheer presence of _two_ urns _suggests_ that it'll be heads, but here goes nothing…" I said as I flipped the 1 Troy ounce of solid gold.

Unsurprisingly, _heads_.

Q snorted at that, and pointed at the urns.

„If I may ask, what's in there actually?" I figured it could not hurt to ask, forewarned and all that...

„A variety of fictional universes, though most of them aren't _entirely_ fictional, given how literally _infinite_ the Multiverse is. You are at least somewhat familiar with all of them, enough to be able to function to a degree. Some you like, some you don't."

Saying „You know, if it's bloody fucking _Worm_ I'm getting I swear I'll find a way to ascend to Q-hood just to _thank you properly_ for this..." only earned me a calculating stare, as the being in front of me seemed to ponder if screwing with my lot drawing would be worth the entertainment value of the (extremely long and unlikely) shot.

„Riiight" I drawled, as I stuck my hand into the first urn, feeling around as the inside seemed to be filled with something soft, small pieces paper most likely. „Once more unto the breach..." I said, as I pulled out what was indeed a small piece of folded paper.

It said: „Black Company".

 _Yay!_ And _holy crap! a_ t the same time. _Yay!_ , because it was among my favourites, and _holy crap!_ because the setting wasn't exactly _nice_ to be around.

I stuck my hand in the second urn.

The paper said: „A Song of Ice and Fire / Game of Thrones".

 _Crap and double crap!_

„Ummm, book or show canon?" I blinked in confusion at the unclear statement.

Q just gave the shrug equivalent of „wait and see" and just as he was about to snap his fingers, stopped briefly, seemingly considering something.

„Don't worry, it won't be _quite_ that bad" he said, making me wonder what the heck was _that_ supposed to mean as the world around dissolved in a flash of white.

.

.

.

„Hyyyyaaaaahhhh!" I woke up _both_ shaken _and_ stirred. What a screwy dream _that_ was...


End file.
